


growing pains

by mwestbelle



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Sibling Incest, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-30
Updated: 2011-07-30
Packaged: 2017-10-22 00:09:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mwestbelle/pseuds/mwestbelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is Waycest wingfic! And...that's about it!</p>
            </blockquote>





	growing pains

**Author's Note:**

> For cool_rain_kiss (who shouldn't hate on seekrit projekts) on this, the first-and-twentieth anniversary of her birth.
> 
> Thanks to anoneknewmoose for her girl detective skills, quick beta, and titling (she basically did everything besides actually write this...OR DID SHE)
> 
> (Originally posted February 24, 2010)

It started off as an itch. It was annoying--a persistent itch across his shoulder blades--but not exactly hard to handle. He squirmed around, folding his arm back to scratch at it, and made a mental note to ask his mom if she'd switched to a different detergent or something. But it changed...centered, and he realized the itch was _inside_ his shoulders. He rubbed back against the walls of shitty bars, which was a terrible idea, but it felt better for a little while. The pressure helped. It became less of an itch and more of a twitch, like something shifting beneath his skin. It had been going on for almost a week when it started to hurt.

After that, he couldn't really ignore it or pretend that it's not happening. He still didn't mention anything to anyone until Thursday morning, when he woke up and found some blood on his sheets and two little fluffy wings protruding from his back. His shirts didn't fit anymore, and he couldn't really avoid telling Donna any longer. He came down to the kitchen with a robe swaddled around him. Donna was at the kitchen table with her coffee and a magazine, and Mikey just kind of shrugged out of the robe, until it was down to his elbows and still clutched--he didn't exactly want to parade around shirtless in front of his mom, with some of the more _creative_ marks he still had leftover from a few nights before. (The bites took his focus away from how his shoulders ached on the inside, at least.) She gave him a pursed lip look over her lipstick-stained mug. "You waited this long to tell me?"

"Yeah, um." Mikey shrugged one shoulder, and the wing fluttered weakly against his back. "Sorry?"

She snorted, but when he came home later, he found a stack of pamphlets on his bed.

A week later, Mikey decided that the pamphlets Donna brought home from the doctor's for him were fucking useless. They explained that there's no known correlation between wings and personality type--growing them is not a reward or a punishment, it's just something that happens to you. Like having brown hair. Yeah, great, thanks. Generally, the wings come in along with the other changes of puberty. (Which Frank had a fucking field day with. "Check out the late bloomer," he crowed, and Mikey smacking the side of his head didn't do much to slow him down. "Be careful, you might start having _special dreams_ soon.") They also said that the wings might be "sensitive" in the weeks after they surface. It turned out that "sensitive" was the world's shittiest euphemism for "more erogenous than your fucking dick."

"Do they itch?" Gerard rubbed his palm over the arch of Mikey's wing, and it couldn't have turned him on more if Gerard was rubbing the head of his cock. Mikey was stretched out on his belly, because he couldn't lie on his fucking back anymore with his wings and because he didn't really feel like showing Gerard his cock straining to get out of his jeans. Gerard had always had a fascination with wings--he cried when Donna told him they couldn't have a parakeet (he was fourteen) and his senior show was all studies of winged models. There was something about the aesthetics, he'd say, the long lines and smooth arcs, feather and bone and flesh wedded together. It was totally the nerdy superhero kind of thing that Gerard had always been into, and it wasn't _fair_ that it made Mikey want to die.

"Mom got me that anti-molting cream." Mikey's face was half pressed into his pillow, just to muffle any unfortunate sounds. It would have been so much easier to just tell Gerard, but it felt so fucking good, he couldn't do it. Gerard touched his wings everyday, sometimes like he wasn't even thinking about it. He would run his finger over one of Mikey's feathers, or search out the knots of bone under the skin that they burst from in his shoulder. They'd started out little and downy, but they'd grown so that when he folded them, they arched over his head and reached nearly to his knees. His wingspan was far greater than his height. He hadn't tried to fly (the pamphlets were very clear about that), but he could feel their strength. But that strength seemed to melt away, turning to butter running down his spine every time Gerard touched them.

Usually Gerard would get bored or distracted or whatever and leave so Mikey could trade in on all the fondling and jerk off in peace. But tonight he was just sitting there, running the barest edge of his nails over the curve of Mikey's wing, tracing the delicate bone underneath. Mikey shuddered and Gerard paused. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Mikey closed his eyes. It was taking everything in his power not to rock down and rub himself off on the bed, through his jeans. "Yeah, it's fine. They're just...kind of sensitive."

"Oh." Gerard didn't stop, though, he just went even _lighter_ , and the ghost of a touch was somehow even hotter than the touch itself. Mikey was going to actually cry if this kept up. But Gerard's fingernail caught on a feather, tugging, and Mikey hissed in pain, clenching his muscles. His wing twitched, ruffled under Gerard's hand, and the sound Gerard made...it wasn't surprise. Mikey had heard Gerard surprised or startled or worried...and he had heard Gerard in the middle of the night, hushed and desperate when he thought everyone was asleep. This was definitely one of the latter sounds.

Mikey propped himself up on his elbows, looking back at Gerard. He was bright red, hand pulled back to his chest. "I'm sorry, Mikes." His voice sounded a little bit rough, and he licked his lips. "I mean...are you okay?"

"Fine." Mikey dropped his gaze down to Gerard's lap and he didn't have to see anything. The way that Gerard shifted guiltily so that he _couldn't_ see was answer enough. "You, uh. Are _you_ okay?"

"I'm sorry," Gerard repeated, in almost a whisper, looking down at his knees. Mikey looked back up at Gerard's face.

"Is it the wings?" He wasn't sure why his stomach was all knotted up when he asked, and while Gerard first shook his head, then nodded, then shrugged and sighed.

"It's...do we have to, Mikes?" Gerard only waited a beat before speaking again, despite his question. "It's not... _just_ the wings." Mikey inhaled sharply and Gerard looked up at him. "The wings...they just make it hard to ignore."

Mikey's stomach was unwinding, which was probably the wrong response. He didn't care. "How hard?"

Gerard snorted. "I...pretty damn hard, Mikey, jesus."

Mikey grinned despite himself; he winced, but he rolled over so he was sitting, legs partially sprawled, the hard line of his cock obvious in his jeans. Gerard made another _sound_ , and Mikey could already tell those were going to be one of his favorite things.

"Mikey, fuck. Just. Let me." Gerard slid off the bed and onto his knees, and Mikey's skin flared with heat. He turned a little, so his feet were on the ground, and Gerard crawled closer. He touched Mikey's belt buckle first, gently, almost reverently. Mikey could feel the heat of his hand, knuckles brushing over the exposed skin of his belly when Gerard finally undid the buckle and popped the button on Mikey's pants. The drag of the zipper down made Mikey moan, and Gerard made an answering low sound. When Gerard pushed Mikey's boxers out of the way, pulling his cock carefully free, Mikey shivered all over, thighs splaying as far as they could with his jeans still tight around them. Gerard laughed, softly, and that was _it_ ; it was more than enough for Mikey until Gerard closed his mouth around Mikey's cock, swallowing him down.

Mikey planted his hands on the edge of the bed, holding on while Gerard sucked him. His brother was giving him a fucking blowjob, and he didn't know what to do, what to think, what to touch. It felt so good, that was all he knew and all he cared about. Gerard made soft wet sounds around his dick, and Mikey tried to keep breathing. He was tense and loose all at the same time, eyes squeezed shut against the image of Gerard's dark head bobbing between his legs. There was a soft sound, movement that Mikey could feel from his toes to his shoulders, and Gerard moaned. Mikey opened his eyes; his wings had moved again, with the flexing and tensing of his muscles, and now they wrapped around both of them. It was hazy, in a way, a warm kind of muffled inside the cavern of feathers. The tips of his wings brushed against Gerard's back, and Mikey was sure it felt like a tease. Gerard went even harder, swallowing and crooning around Mikey's cock, wet and messy and desperate in a way that made Mikey never want to stop. But he'd been on edge for ages, and his wings were starting to flutter a little in anticipation.

He came down Gerard's throat with a choked shout. As soon as Gerard pulled back, smiling dazedly up at him, worshipful with his bruised mouth, Mikey was pushing him back and sliding down on top of him, wings engulfing the pair of them again. His thigh felt sweaty slammed up against Gerard's crotch, but Gerard was bucking like he didn't care, letting Mikey kiss his own taste from his reddened lips, lick it out of his mouth. Gerard wrapped his arms around Mikey's back, hands bracketing the bases of Mikey's wings. Mikey wanted to open up Gerard's jeans, sink down onto him, throw his head back and spread his wings while his brother fucked him until he was hard again. But Gerard came in his pants with a whimper against Mikey's lips, and they were both left lying on the bedroom floor, breathing hard.

"Um." Gerard shifted a little under Mikey. His wings fluttered weakly, but mostly stayed limp on the floor around them. "So...when those pamphlets say _sensitive_ , they mean..."

"Yeah." Mikey yawned and slid down until he could rest his cheek against Gerard's chest. "That's what they mean."


End file.
